


The Number of People Who Meet on Airplanes

by ftzsmmns



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Airplanes, Alternate Universe - College/University, Bisexual Leo Fitz, Fluff, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-31
Updated: 2016-03-31
Packaged: 2018-05-30 06:48:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6413287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ftzsmmns/pseuds/ftzsmmns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leo Fitz and Jemma Simmons sat beside each other inside an airplane, little did they know they were each other's other half.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Number of People Who Meet on Airplanes

**Author's Note:**

> This story's plot is from David Levithan's How They Met and Other Stories from the chapter The Number of People Who Meet on Airplanes. The story is from that chapter, but I used characters from Marvel's Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.. The entire story isn't a carbon copy of that chapter.

 

 Ten years ago, I was on a plane back to London around Christmas season. It was difficult leaving my mum so early that year, but I had no other choice, it was my last year in college and I needed to graduate with flying colors.

            There was so much in my mind during that moment. I needed to write a 10,000 word essay about the importance of engineering, which was terrible and utterly impractical. Not to mention the fact that I left my mum all alone on Christmas season. And also, the fact that I wasn’t seated on row seventeen, since seventeen is my lucky number. I was seated on row fourteen. I tried to remain positive. _“It will all be over soon, Leo,”_ I told myself.

            It has been a habit of mine going to airports way too early than the supposed time, hence when my row number was called, I was one of the first few to be seated. I grabbed some things in my bag to prepare myself for the flight; three dollars for airline cup of tea, my monkey stuffed toy, and my copy of The Alchemist – my personal choice when travelling, but I’m a little biased, since it’s my favorite book in this world.

            Seats in the plane were filling up, but there was an empty seat beside me. Since it was only ten minutes until take off, I’m sure there won’t be anyone sitting beside me. I was elated, because more legroom for me then. I was already relaxed and at ease, until there was a tap on my shoulder. “Excuse me, sir,” I looked up and saw hazel eyes and rose cheeks. “That’s my seat right there,” she pointed to the empty seat beside me. I was embarrassed, my feet were already up on the empty seat. I unbuckled my seatbelt and helped her with her bag, she responded with a shy thank you and a small smile. I let her sit down first, I followed. As soon as we were both seated, I said hello.

            I wasn’t into dating. I mean, I have had a small amount of crushes – both men and women, but I never _really_ dated. The girl beside me was pretty; she had pretty eyes, a pretty nose, and a pretty mouth. She was absolutely breath taking. Even the way her short brown hair falls until her shoulders was simply beautiful. Since she was very, very, _very_ pretty, I decided to greet her. It wasn’t my kind of thing since I was also antisocial and never talked to strangers in public transportation. I had three friends back at college, one every summer vacation, and my mum.

            She also said hello. She’s British, very evident because of her accent; but still, I needed to start a conversation. “British, I see. Where are you from?” I asked her. She smiled. God, it was that smile again. “I’m from Sheffield. You’re Scottish, I see. Where are _you_ from?” she asked me this time. “Here, actually. Glasgow,” I responded. “Ah,” was all she said, and again, smiled.

            I didn’t know what to say. How do I talk to a stranger? It was difficult for me because I’ve never had much encounters with women, just my mum, my friend every summer named Daisy, and my best friend’s girlfriend named Bobbi. She brought out something from her handbag – a copy of The Alchemist. Finally, a conversation starter. I showed her my copy of The Alchemist, “I’m reading the same book, too!” I said with a little hint of joy. She smiled wider, “I love this book. I always read it during plane rides!” she said. “Me, too!” We both chuckled.

            Her name was Jemma. I, of course, introduced myself as Leopold, but told her to call me Fitz instead. She was visiting her Scottish Science teacher from her high school in Scotland, and said she needed to go back to London to finish a paper also due next week. About ten minutes has passed and I had found out tons of things about her; first, she lived in Sheffield, she likes reading The Alchemist – like me, she loves her high school Science teacher, she also needed to finish a paper – also just like me, and the most interesting piece of information so far, she was an aspiring biochemist. She wasn’t _just_ pretty, after all; she was also highly intelligent.

            “Okay, okay, enough about me,” she said, “What about you, Fitz? Why are you going to London?” she asked. I told her I was with my mum for Christmas vacation and had to leave to finish a paper for college, too. For another ten minutes, we talked about how much I loved my mum and that I look up to her. She thought that I was sweet, thoughtful, and caring. Soon, I felt a little spark forming between the two of us. We didn’t even notice the plane took off already twenty minutes ago.

            By the time our digital clocks hit 2 a.m. – when we had only fifty minutes left, passengers decided to sleep, but the two of us were the only ones awake. We both forgot we had The Alchemist to read, and continued to talk to each other about meaningful nonsense. I talked about my best friend, Lance, and his girlfriend, Bobbi, and how they treat me like I’m their little child. Jemma laughed at how silly that was, but even it sounded silly, it was true. She talked about her experience back in high school when she tried to bake cookies, but terribly failed. She cried that night because of the thought of failing Home Economics. Good thing she made it up to her teacher and didn’t fail high school. I was so lost in her eyes, I missed like almost 1/3 of her story. My favorite part of her story isn’t in the story itself, but it’s every time she lets out a little laugh.

            After three cups of tea and five stories later, the plane was preparing to land. She held my arm tightly on the armrest, “I’m sorry. I just really hate the landing,” she said. She rested her head on my shoulder, as she held to me tighter. On the outside, I was calm. On the inside, I was panicking – not the normal panic, the _what-do-I-do-when-I’ve-never-been-this-close-to-a-girl-before_ panic. I placed my hand on top of hers and told her, “It will all be over soon.” She breathed deeply and started to untighten her grip. Despite the fact that I had to write a 10,000 word essay on the importance of engineering, the fact that I left my mum on Christmas season, and the fact that I wasn't seated on row seventeen, Jemma was the only good thing that happened to me that day. 

 

That was how Jemma and I met – not your ordinary love story, right? We couldn’t share a cab that night because I needed to head to my dorm, and she needed to head to hers. I insisted, but she gave me her phone number instead. The probability of us meeting again were low because of our tight schedules, since we were both graduating. We kept in touch, though. We constantly e-mail and text each other about our day, and rant about different things. To my surprise, she attended my graduation. She met my mum that day, and ever since that day, the two of them became best friends. After college, we both got jobs in the same town, which made us easier to date. We had dinner every night, unless one has to work. We both met Paulo Coelho together, who by the way, was the author of our favorite book, The Alchemist. Our first kiss was in front of her porch in Sheffield, until her dad caught us, but still invited me inside for a glass of orange juice. I professed my love for her while we were stargazing one night, and luckily, she also said it that night. Things were going steady between Jemma and I, and I knew I wanted to be with her for the rest of my life, so I proposed and we got married. We got married nine years since we met, and it was the best wedding ever.

            We both threw a party at our cottage in Perthshire to mark our tenth year anniversary since the day we met. Ever since I met Jemma, I became a little less antisocial, but we only invited important people to the party. I invited Lance, Bobbi, and Daisy, my newest college friend, Mack, and ten people from work, while Jemma invited _my_ mum, her parents, her high school Science teacher (plus her five children and three grandchildren), her college friend named Lincoln, about five people from work, and lastly, her ex-boyfriend named Will.

            “Bloody hell, Fitz!” Lance Hunter, obviously drunk, approached me, “Ten years since you’ve met Jemma, can you believe that? When do I get to meet her?”

            I smiled, “Hunter, you’ve met her five times already in the span of ten years. And thank you for coming.”

            Bobbi approached us, grabbing the red cup from Hunter’s hand, “I’m so sorry, Fitz,” she apologized, “He’s…”

            “Drunk. I know. The last time I’ve seen him this drunk was when we had our high school graduation party, and let us not forget that he almost got arrested for underage drinking.” Bobbi and I laughed. Good times, good times.

            Bobbi smiled at me, “Fitz, I’m so happy for you. Happy tenth year, Fitz.”

            “Thank you, Bobbi,” I said, “Thank you for coming, too.”

            Jemma on the other hand, was talking to Lincoln. Probably something about biochemistry, or probably the fact that Lincoln is obviously crushing on either Mack or Daisy.

            I felt a tap on my shoulder, and as I turned around, I saw Will. “Hello, Will,” I said with a smile, “Thank you for coming. This means so much to Jemma.”

            “Of course. I wanted to see you guys happy,” Will said with a sincere smile.

            The first time I met Will, I was doubtful. He seemed a little shady for me, but as I got to know him, we both have one thing in common – we both cared for Jemma deeply, and we both are willing to give up everything for Jemma to have the best.

            “Anyway, you guys never told me how the two of you met,” Will said.

            Jemma saw us having a conversation, so she came over, “Well, we met on an airplane from Scotland to London.”

            Every time Jemma and I would tell the story to people, we would always like to end with our _If I had_ statements. “If I had decided to take the train that day, instead of an airplane, I would have never met Fitz,” Jemma said. Before we knew it, all of our guests were listening.

            “If I didn’t bring The Alchemist that day, I wouldn’t be married right now,” I said. The guests laughed, but we kept going.

            “If we both didn’t have papers to finish that week, you all wouldn’t be here at this moment,” Jemma said as she kissed my cheek.

            “If I wasn’t seated on row fourteen-“ Hunter interrupted rudely, “Row fourteen? That’s rubbish!” he said, “You are always seated on row seventeen!” Yes, this is probably the sixth time Lance has heard this story, but being drunk and all, he managed to butt in.

            “Uh, I actually requested row seventeen, since it was my lucky number. Although, when I checked in, it was suddenly changed,” I said.

            Everyone _aaaaaw-ed_ that moment, but Will kept nodding, “How interesting,” he said, “What airline is this?”

            Jemma and I looked at each other. Jemma told him the airline.

            “And what airport did you leave from?” Will continued to ask.

            I told him the airport.

            “Hmm… interesting.”

            There was an awkward silence. No one understood what Will was trying to say. Until, he finally popped the bubble. “Ten years ago? Today?” he asked.

            Jemma and I were highly intelligent, but we couldn’t interpret what Will was leading us to. We both nodded.

            “This is… just… wow. Fitz, do you remember the man behind the counter you checked in?” he asked.

            I shook my head, “Nope,” I said popping the p, “Not at all.”

            Will clapped his hands in joy, “Everyone, sit back and relax because I am about to tell you all the legendary story of… Phil Coulson.”

 

Apparently, Phil Coulson was this man obsessed with interfering with people’s love lives for some reason; at least that’s how I understood it. Phil Coulson was a legend. He was a man sitting behind a counter. For twenty years. The way Coulson does it is when he meets an unmarried person – that’s me, who would check in his flight and place his seat on an empty chair, and the other unmarried person would check in – that’s Jemma. Coulson has done this at least thrice a year, but legend says that every single time he does this, the two people would most likely fall in love.

            After the party was over, everyone was heading home, but I decided to approach Will privately. “Will, hey,” I said, “By any chance, do you know where this man is?”

            “He retired just recently,” Will said, “Don’t worry, I’ll try to look for him. Consider this as an anniversary gift.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I cut the chapter short since I didn't know how to continue, but you guys could read the actual story. I'm @simmcns on twitter and heyfitzsimmons on tumblr.


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